Leaving the academy was a big step, and my heart fluttered on the train as I rode towards my new life. Everything I ownedβwhich was admittedly not a great dealβwas either on my person or packed into a small suitcase in the luggage rack above.
As many people averted their eyes as stared whenever passengers boarded or departed. After all, I was still wearing the red, white, and black uniform of the Imperial Academy of Courtesans. Each and every passenger would have at least a passing familiarity with the school and its reputation for producing the wives, mistresses, and... companions of the empire's most influential men.
I ignored the stares and watched the countryside drift by through the window. While watching, I caught my own reflection; a bored looking girl of eighteen, her silver blonde hair meticulously formed into a long braid, her red lipstick applied with the precision of an oil painting.
An announcement was made that the train would soon arrive at St Alexander. I took my case down and moved towards the doors. Catching my reflection again, I straightened my uniform and adjusted my breasts to maximise their visual effect. It was imperative to make a good first impression.
"Wish I could afford one of them academy girls," a man said, ogling me.
I smiled in response. If every man in the empire had an academy girl, I'm sure it would have been a much better place.
When the train stopped, I did as I had been instructed. I stepped out and walked directly to the information desk.
"Good morning," I said. "I have just arrived from the Imperial Academy of Courtesans, and I am to be delivered to Mister Charles Leeway."
The woman at the desk, a brunette perhaps ten years my senior, looked me over appraisingly.
"They really do make you girls different down there, don't they?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Ma'am."
The woman picked up the telephone receiver on her desk. I hoped she wasn't offended by my use of the term "ma'am" rather than "miss".
"She's here," she said into the phone. "Pretty thing."
A man approached from one side and introduced himself as Mister Charles Leeway. He was tall and well-dressed with dark hair and a strong jaw. Perhaps fifty years of age, he was quite handsome, though it was clear that his looks were diminishing. There was a weariness in his eyes.
Up until that point, I knew nothing about Mister Charles Leeway other than he was a wealthy aristocrat and he, as of three days earlier, owned me.
To make something clear, we do not become slaves as soon as we enter the academy at sixteen. Rather, we are given the requisite training and then allowed to make that choice ourselves two years later. For those who eschew the courtesan's life, there are options. We make excellent diplomats, for example, able to maintain composure and get what is necessary in the face of any opponent.
However, many of us stay the course. It may seem from the outside preposterous for a young woman to accept a life of servitude. However, we go into it willingly. Perhaps our brains have been affected by the endless high teas and dinner functions of the academy.
"Gods, you really are stunning," Mister Leeway said once we were in his car.
"Thank you, sir," I replied.
Thank you, sir.
I am glad I can please you, sir.